


Call Me Renewed

by rileywrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileywrites/pseuds/rileywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles dies, Derek never expects to move on, but he learns to live without him. Higher powers have different plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Renewed

"Stiles, wait, don’t—"

The spear comes shooting through the man’s chest before Derek can get out the rest of his order. Stiles drops to the ground, wet, shuddering gasps escaping from his throat.

Derek tears the head off of the attacker before he can think, dropping to Stiles’ side as soon as he’s sure it’s safe.

"Can’t believe… I outlived twenty years… of supernatural bullshit," Stiles wheezes, "Only to be… killed… by a goddamn spear."

Derek shakes his head furiously. “You’re not gonna die, Stilinski. I won’t let it happen.”

Stiles lifts a bloody hand to Derek’s forearm, stroking gently. “Don’t be stupid, Sourwolf.” He smiles softly. “We all knew… my time would… come someday.”

"Not today, dammit! Not today." Derek cradles the weakening man to his chest. "We need you. The puppies need you. The pack needs you…  _I_  need you.”

Stiles moves to cup his cheek. “If you’re going… through… hell…” A wracking cough cuts him off.

"Keep going," Derek finishes with a noise that is  _not_  a sob. ”Keep going.”

"Promise me… you’ll keep going." 

"I promise, Stiles. I promise."

"Take… care… of them… Sourwolf."

The slowing heartbeat stops.

The soundtrack to the last twenty years of Derek’s life is gone, and he never said… never admitted… never…

His howl is a broken, strangled sound, wrenched from his body without his permission.

~

Derek is still curled around Stiles’ body when the Betas find him. 

It takes the strength of Boyd  _and_  Scott to get him to let go.

~

Derek tears the train station apart in his rage so he doesn’t take it out on anyone else.

Boyd finds him a step away from feral, still lupine from when Stiles died.

All Derek’s second-in-command does is wrap strong arms around the Alpha until his presence calms him enough to sleep.

Stiles comes to him in his dreams.

~

Time goes on.

Stiles’ body is buried in the ever-growing cemetery on the Hale Property, between Erica and Peter— where he wanted to be.

The puppies grow— Scott and Allison’s daughter, Issac and Danny’s son, Boyd’s Irish Wolfhound.

Derek learns to exist without Stiles, even though he feels wrong without the man at his side.

Sometimes he forgets, and goes running into Stiles’ office to tell him something, only to be hit again by the reality of his death.

~

Kylie notices Stiles’ absence more than Bobby does, asking people what happened to him.

"Uncle Stiles passed away, baby girl. He gave his life to protect the pack," Allison explains patiently. "We’ll see him again someday."

Kylie nods once, thoughtfully, before walking over to Derek and crawling up in his lap. She throws her arms around her neck and squeezes with all her might.

"M’sorry, Der-dere." She kisses him on the cheek. "Don’t be sad."

"How do you know I’m sad, little one?"

Kylie shrugs. “Uncle Stiles was your favorite. You loved him the mostest.”

Derek stares at the tiny girl for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, face in her neck. They sit like that for a little while, Kylie petting Derek’s head.

"Feel better, Dere-dere?" She says after some time passes, snuggling even closer.

"I do. Thank you, little one."

~

Danny takes over as head of research. He’s the only one Stiles said could touch the books anyway, the only one allowed to actually work in Stiles’ office.

Derek still isn’t used to Danny’s calm reports instead of Stiles’ manic effusive ones.

Derek still hasn’t gotten him trained to understand his grunts.

Danny isn’t Stiles.

~

Derek is alone one night, a rare occurrence with so many people living on the Hale territory and in the house. Scott, Allison, and Kylie are on a trip overnight to visit ‘Grandpa Argent.” Danny, Issac and Bobby are in DC, visiting Lydia, Madame President, and Jackson, her “First Lady.” Boyd is… Derek isn’t sure where Boyd is. He does that sometimes.

He takes advantage of his night alone, picking a book at random from Stiles’ collection.

Reading Stiles’ books— the fiction ones, he wouldn’t dare go near the supernatural reference ones— has made Derek feel closer to the man after his death. All of them are filled with messy scrawls, notes, reactions, doodles.

It’s as if Derek is reading it  _with_  Stiles, not just after him.

He’s half-way through  _Looking for Alaska_ (Really, John Green?) when he hears footfall on the porch.

Familiar footfall.

There’s no fucking way.

Derek stands slowly, padding to the front hall warily.

A knock. Two. Threefourfivesix. Pause. Seveneightnine.

Stiles.

But it can’t be.

But it can only be.

Derek inhales sharply and the scent of sage mixed with gunpowder fills his senses.

But it can’t be.

But it can only be.

He opens the door.

~

Stiles is standing on his porch. He still looks like he did the day he died— thirty-seven, strong from the Police Academy and years of running for his life and for his pack, slightly shaggy brown hair, whiskey eyes, constellation of moles.

"No. No, no, no. Nonononono." Derek roars without thought. "You can’t be real. There’s no fucking way. You  _died_.”

"Believe me, I know." Stiles (not-stiles, can’t-be-stiles) runs a hand through his hair. "I felt every second of it."

"How are you even  _here_?”

Stiles (not-stiles, proof-he-finally-cracked-stiles) shrugs. “Some shit about my time not being up. Miss me, Sourwolf?”

Derek is wolfed-out before he can think. “Don’t you  _dare_  call me that. Only the real Stiles is allowed to call me that.”

Stiles (not-stiles) sighs. “Want me to prove it? Erica’s last words were ‘you’ll always be my superhero.’ There’s a dagger hidden in all of Lydia’s outfits. Kylie’s first word was ‘Dere’ and Bobby’s, ‘Al.’ My last words were ‘Keep them safe, Sourwolf,’ and…” He takes a deep breath. “You have Kate’s initials scarred in your thigh, because she burned you with wolfsbane and called it love.”

Derek is against the staircase. He hadn’t realized he was retreating into the house through Stiles’ monologue.

"Stiles is the only one who knows… the only one who knows what’s under that tattoo."

"I’m Stiles."

"You can’t be. Resurrection is impossible." Derek takes a deep breath. "I would know, I’ve done the research."

"From our end, maybe. Not from the other." Stiles shrugs. "My work here isn’t done. My time isn’t up."

Derek shakes his head frantically. “It’s been almost a year, Stiles. You died, and it’s been almost a year. Why would god, the universe, whatever, send you back now?”

"I don’t know," Stiles murmurs. "I’m sorry."

~

Derek avoids Stiles as much as he can.

(Admittedly, this is difficult, since Stiles can’t leave the territory. He’s supposed to be dead.)

Stiles finally cracks a few days in.

"Do you think this is fucking  _easy_ for me? Huh? I  _died_ , Derek. I died and saw my mom, and dad, and Erica again. I met your family, Derek. I let go of my life here. I never expected to leave them like this.” Stiles growls. “And I come back, and you won’t even fucking  _look_  at me, like this is my fault. Earth to Derek, you aren’t the only one in pain. You aren’t the only one fucking suffering here!”

Derek stares at Stiles stares at Derek.

"I’m sorry."

That draws Stiles up short.

"What?"

"I’m sorry. I should never have tried to punish you for circumstances beyond your control."

Stiles stares at Derek for a few moments more before reaching out and reeling Derek in by the tank top.

"What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done fifteen years ago."

Derek finds himself being thoroughly kissed by the formerly dead former sheriff.

He tangles his hands in Stiles’ shirt, kissing back with twenty years of pent up love and lust and hurt and anger and love and love.

"See, Sourwolf," Stiles says with a grin when they pull apart. "I knew you missed me."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here.](rileyrises.tumblr.com)


End file.
